


Intsy Bitsy Spider

by SirLuftmensch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, I Believe in Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2764538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirLuftmensch/pseuds/SirLuftmensch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You dream so that your brain could memorize. Then why would I dream of it? Something myself and even others have tried to make me forget. Simple doings are always complicatec for me. You get a text, and you reply, and you do whatever you want to do according to the text you recieved. Quite a simple task that mostly anyone would nowadays. Although mine came from Sherlock Holmes. An invitation. But what kind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intsy Bitsy Spider

 

The metallic scent filled the air of the enclosed room. No windows but just a single door to my right and a little lightbulb hanging from the low cieling. The dim, orange light emitting from it shined opon the shivering man, lighting his crimson red blood.....beautifully. I almost pity towards the shivering man, kneeling on the cold stone floor on both knees and letting out weak whimpers, but I'll let Seb down if he notices the compassion on my face, so I drop the thoughts immediately.

"Clementine, get the pole please."

I let out a little hum and walk towards the wooden table. I focus my eyes to the dark and make out a simple kitchen knife (ouch), a blunt screwdriver (yikes), a little baby gun (cute), and the metal pole, probably something that was ripped off a gas pipe. I snatch up the pole into my hands and scurry towards Seb, standing lean and tall in front of the bloody man below him.

"Here you are."

I say, and place the object into Seb's outstreched hands. For a moment I admire his long and fragile fingers and wonder how he could put a man in such a situation as the one kneeling on the floor. But of course, I can't be caught drooling over some fingers from him, so I cut my focus and snap back to my surroundings.

"Thank you."

His words do a little leap at the end of each of them, showing how much fun he's having.

His arms, with the metal pole in his hands, swing directly to the side of the man's face as soon as his words end their sounds. The man lets out a yell, not too loud, but enough to show how much pain he is in. Another swing, now to the other side of his head, but this time harder. I watch with curiosity as the man sways at the force but manages to keep his balance and not flop down onto the floor, like what I've seen most people do. His hair moves only slightly from the weight of the blood and sweat it soaked in, and the whole frame of his body, the dramatic lighting, and the droplets of sweat and blood make my body shiver from the artistry of it. There's only so little people that could endure Seb's work for this long, and to be so strong physically and mentally enough, and I'm not going to miss a single second of it.

"He says to stay away."

"Forget him for now."

"He says we'll meet again."

"So understand?"

With every phrase, Seb bashes the man's head in between. But the man is silent. Stubborn? Or just numb to pain?

"UNDERSTAND?"

Seb raises his voice and kicks the man's chest, sending him backwards to the floor. The man groans but nods his head a couple of times. Seb lets out a short and light sigh of satisfaction and turns his body towards me.

"Ready to go Clem?"

I nod and take long steps towards the door and slide my hands into the pocket of my pants. I carefully pinch out the small key and insert it into the keyhole after a few fumbling. I hear a light crack and push the door open. Seb passes me and walks out into the dim lit hall, and I take a step forward to follow him.

"Clementine.."

I hear my name from behind me and turn my face to meet, not even a feet away from me, the man, on his wobbly feet and reaching a hand towards me. I take note of his icicle colored eyes into my mind and calmly walk away towards Seb's back, ignoring my heart that's beating as if it just went through a heart attack.

"Seb wait up!"

I yell, and run towards the colorful lights of the streets at the end of the hallway.

"CLEMENTINE!"

_Voice with force but surpressed intonation._

_He's being held down._

I freeze in my tracks. I look dead straight to the swung open door. Someone's probably sticked onto that wall on the other side, with a gun, ready to shoot. A bad idea for HIM to pick out a place with one straight hallway.

"Clementine, come with me."

I flinch when I feel fingers wrap around my hand. I stand motionless, eyes jet open, and jaw clenched with so much strengh that my cheeks feel numb. The man that was once bleeding on the floor was now walking me through the halls, pulling my hand slightly against my little fight to escape.

"Clementine! CLEMENTINE!"

I hear Seb's voice and panic kicks in. I try to pull myself away from the man's grasp and manage to slip away for a second to see Seb held down to the ground by about five men, meeting his shocked eyes. I whisper out his name as if to seek help.

"Seb.....?"

 

 

I hear myself take in a gasp of breath and for a moment, I feel myself float.

Apparently, that was me falling off the bed.

I groan at the sudden pain to my waking body and the coldness of the wooden floor.

"If you're going to try to wake yourself up, I suggest you try it in a more not painful way."

I lift my head up to see Mycroft at the door of my room.

"Firstly, good morning. Secondly, thank you for the lovely advice, and third, when did you open my door?"

I gave the man an annoyed glare, which he simply replied with an arched eyebrow.

"Firstly, good morning to you too Clementine. Secondly, you are quite welcome, and third, I just happened to come across in front of your room when I heard a noise."

I secretly roll my eyes and lift myself up from the floor. As Mycroft strides away, I walk towards my closet and grab out some clothes. A casual, gray, and over sized hoodie with some black jeans. After I end my hopping-into-jeans routine, I walk quickly out of my room and leap down the spiraled stairs to the kitchen. The soft red carpet absorbes the sound of my naked feet meeting the ground, but as soon as I meet the end of the stairs and onto the hard wood, the slaps of my feet echo through the atmosphere, just how Mycroft hates it.

I lower my pace of my feet and slide into the kitchen. The basket of fruits catch my eyes and I lunge for the apple.

"Would you like some toast and eggs with that Miss Clementine?"

My movements freeze and I slowly turn my head awkwardly to see Claire, the head maid, with her arms folded and chin lifted high.

"Yes please."

I squeak out and quickly grab the apple. Feeling the frimness and no strange softeness to the outer skin of the apple, I take a large bite out of it and take the nearest seat to me. After just few minutes. claire comes back with a plate of a toast and two eggs. I quickly thrust them down my throat, not caring if whether I would call it eating or just swallowing whole. I rise from my seat to return to my room to do.......stuff....(procrastanate, that is).

"What did you study last night?"

_Why do people like to stop me right when I'm trying to move?_ I think to myself.

And then, Mycroft and I have our daily morning conversation that goes like this:

Mycroft: "What did you study last night?"

Me: "Rea..ding..."

Mycroft: "And what kind of literature did you help yourself with. Shakespeare? Hemmingway? Fitzgerald?"

Me: "C.S. Lewis....."

Mycroft: "Fanatsy again?"

Me: "Imagination is good for your brain, you know."

Mycroft: "And what kind of benefits will it have for future assignments?"

Me: "Art?"

Mycroft: "You hardly ever pick up a paintbrush."

Me: "Yeah....."

And with his usual sigh, he walks away to his doings, government doings, that is. I, on the other hand, is free to go, and I make a run for it towards my room. Mycroft walks out the door and he shuts it as I was just going to yell, " Bye Mycroft! Don't work too hard!", but he'll probably ignore what I'll say anyway, so I shrug it off and enter my room.

After some hours of mostly playing on my phone, it rings in my hands and I almost drop it onto my face from surprise. Normally, Mycroft wouldn't text me, and I don't have anyone on my contacts that would ever text me except him.

_Hello. Are you available right now? -SH_

My eyes turn wide. _So this is Mycroft's brother, that detective guy!_ I think to myself and reply to the text.

_I don't really know who you are, so why should I tell you? Clementine._

The reply comes immediately.

_Your reply came too early for someone who is busy. Would be helpful if you came as quickly as possible, you know the address. -SH_

I scowl at my carelessness. I stare at the screen for a good full minute, thinking of the consequences this may bring. Sure, Mycroft would be mad if he found out. IF HE FOUND OUT.

I grab my jacket, earphones, and my sneakers and head downstairs, excitement filling up my chest.

 

 


End file.
